The Sordid Affair of Books These Days
by Cu Chulainn 1945
Summary: Storybrooke AU. Rosie French loves working at the local library. She does not love when Mr. Gold comes by.
1. Chapter 1

"Miss French."

"Mr. Gold."

The man with the cane nodded at her response; it was what he expected every day. Miss French didn't even look up from her books when he came in. She just kept her head down, ignored him as best she could, and hoped he wouldn't do anything exasperating.

Slowly, Gold removed his scarf and coat and laid them on the counter. Miss French shifted her book away from it.

"We need to talk," said Gold. Rosie sighed through her nose. "It's about this book –"

"_What_ book?" Her words were perhaps a little sharper than an outsider would think necessary; Mr. Gold bit back a grin and held up a paperback with the library barcode on its side. Rosie's eyes crossed to read the title.

"Seriously?" she said eventually. "_To Kill a Mockingbird_?"

Gold nodded gravely. The librarian threw up her hands.

"What's wrong with _To Kill a Mockingbird_?"

"Many things," said Mr. Gold steadily. Rosie scoffed; he ignored her and plowed on. "For one, I found this book in the _children's section_ of your library last time I was here –"

"Stalking children, no doubt," Rosie snapped.

"—and I decided to give it a read." Gold let the book fall to the counter with a noisy thump; his expression was professional and controlled, the opposite of Rosie's suppressed but smoldering rage.

"_What_," she ground out, "is wrong with _To Kill a Mockingbird_?"

Gold's favorite part.

"It's obscene," he started, savoring Rosie's look of smothered outrage. "It shows blatant racism and a lack of respect to both African-Americans and post-Civil War Southern America."

"It's a _civil rights_ book!" Rosie cried.

"It makes references to unwilling sexual relationships," Gold continued, "as well as sordid incest. A central character is terribly wronged and executed."

Rosie's mouth worked soundlessly; indignation had stolen her words away.

"It is not age appropriate," Gold finished succinctly. "I've saved you the trouble of starting your own petition for banning, Miss French. Here you are."

He presented her with a crisp piece of paper, signed by every citizen in Storybrooke. Rosie stared at it in horror for a moment, then looked back at Mr. Gold. He was beaming.

"OK," Rosie growled, "this is ridiculous. This book –" She tapped _To Kill a Mockingbird_. "—has been a classic since the 1960s. It's a staple of childhood! Every kid learns about racism and – and injustice from this book! It teaches kids that you can't always get your way – even if you're right. Even _you_ must have read it as a kid!"

"It scarred me," Mr. Gold agreed. Rosie's cheeks puffed out. She glared at him.

"This isn't right," she said.

"It's unjust?" asked Mr. Gold. Looking suspicious, Rosie nodded, and Mr. Gold allowed himself a full-on grin. "Well, clearly you didn't learn much from _To Kill a Mockingbird_, Miss French. Life's unfair. Now –"

He slid the book across the counter.

"I'd like to return this, if you don't mind. And I expect all copies to be off the shelves and packed away by Wednesday, as per the petition. Wouldn't want to disobey and lose your job, right?" Rosie didn't answer, only stared miserably down at the book. "You have a nice day, dear," Gold said. He shifted away, leaning his cane against the counter so he could put his coat back on.

"Why do you _do_ this?" Rosie moaned, taking the book. Mr. Gold froze, his hands hovering inches above his coat and scarf. He thought about it.

Why did he ban all of Rosie French's favorite books? Why did he come to the library just to read her favorite books and make excuses for why good literature should be banned? He hadn't always done it. He knew that once – just weeks or months before – he'd gone to the library for normal reasons. To read.

But of course, Rosie French had never paid attention to him then.

Mr. Gold smiled. "I've just got the town's well-being in my heart, dear," he told her. Rosie's expression grew thunderously dark; Gold grabbed his scarf and coat, put them back on, and turned to leave. A frown was itching at his lips in a most obnoxious way. For some reason, lately, Miss French's glowers and insults hadn't been enough. He wished he knew how to make her smile.

Then again, Gold decided with a shrug, smiles weren't his thing. He determined to target _The_ _Crucible_ next time – it was one of his favorites as well, so he'd at least have fun reading it. And he couldn't wait to see the look on Miss French's face when he told her it could cause anarchy amongst the government-disliking teens. She'd hate it, and he'd be perfectly justified – he was, after all, just worried about democracy and such.

Mr. Gold left the local library with a bounce in his step and a smile on his face. Inside, Rosie French glared down at the thirteenth book Gold had banned and curled her lip.

She really, really hated him sometimes.


	2. Chapter 2

Rosie French had been librarian at Storybrooke's quaint little book center for as long as she could remember. And, for as long as she could remember, her favorite thing about working at the library had been Mr. Gold.

He came in late in the evening, close to closing time, when there was no one else around. That had been the first thing to catch Rosie's eye – George, her on-again, off-again boyfriend, told her it was because Gold hated people. Rosie always wondered if the truth was that he was shy.

She also noticed Gold's tendency to read books without checking them out. He had a library card, she was sure, but he never used it. He selected books, hid in an alcove somewhere, and read in private. Ruby assured Rosie that this was because Gold was reading porn, something that Rosie laughed at but almost believed. Then she found a book placed in the wrong spot one day and discovered what Mr. Gold was really reading: Westerns.

Over the next few weeks, Rosie found all sorts of unexpected literature misplaced by Mr. Gold (who apparently knew very little of the Dewey Decimal System). Chaste little romances were perhaps the most amusing, and perhaps the most heartbreaking was when she found a novel about a father searching for his missing son. It had the plot of the thriller with the sentimentality of a Nicholas Sparks novel, and the pages had fresh tearstains on them.

Rosie wanted desperately to talk to Mr. Gold. Somehow, though, she couldn't seem to find the right time.

She baked him cookies on Thursday; when he passed her at the counter, she failed to tell him and ended up dumping the cookies in the trash.

She saved a new Louis L'Amour novel for him (well, new to the library), then lacked the courage to hand it over. Besides, she reasoned with herself, he'd probably get embarrassed that she knew his secret and refuse to come to the library ever again.

She thought she had the perfect opportunity when she found one of his expensive cufflinks lying lost on the library floor. Eagerly, Rosie had retrieved it and planned for how she would give it back.

'Oh, Mr. Gold,' she imagined saying, 'I found this on the floor yesterday – is it yours?'

And when he said yes, before he got the chance to take it, she would say, 'You know, I've been thinking … and I was wondering if you'd like to join me for a coffee. The library's closing early, you see, so you won't have time to read a book. I thought you might like some company, since you've got nothing else planned.'

But Rosie lost the cufflink.

She resigned herself to a life of watching Mr. Gold from afar and wondering what he was like. Then, out of the blue – and just as she'd decided not to act – Mr. Gold approached her. He was holding a copy of something called _The Things They Carried_, one of Belle's favorites, and he looked almost nervous. As she watched, he shifted his weight and licked his lips.

He held the book up for her to see.

"Um, hi," said Rosie, accidentally cutting him off just as he was about to speak. "Would you like to … check that out?"

Mr. Gold stared at her.

He stared at her.

And stared at her.

"Yes," he said. Rosie let out a silent sigh of relief; she wasn't sure how much longer she could take that scrutiny. Gold handed over his library card (Rosie raised her eyebrows at his first name; smiled but said nothing) and Rosie swiped it through the scanner with his book. She tucked the receipt into the book and handed it back to Gold.

He licked his lips again and opened his mouth to speak, before he hesitated and turned away. Rosie watched him go, something rising up inside her. She wished he'd asked her out. She wished she'd asked him out. She wished they'd talked.

And so, she did something very stupid.

"Hey," she called. Gold halted, looking at her over his shoulder. "I've got some Harlequin romances in the back, if you'd prefer those."

Gold gawked at her. The few people in the library froze.

"They're extra-spicy," Rosie sang even as her heart sank. She was already berating herself. Hell, how could someone go so wrong? She'd meant to tease him gently, and instead it sounding like she was making fun. And did she have to speak so fricking _loud_?

Angry red patches were on Gold's cheeks. He looked furious – and worse, he looked humiliated. Rosie gulped, waiting for retribution.

But Mr. Gold just turned away and left Rosie to her thoughts.

* * *

The next week, Rosie was fully immersed in her book when a loud thud made her jump and look around. Mr. Gold was standing right in front of her; he'd slammed a book down on the counter. When Rosie looked at it, she saw it was the one he'd checked out days before – _The Things They Carried_.

She looked up at Mr. Gold. His expression was closed off and severe. Rosie wondered if he thought she'd been making fun of him before; it seemed the only conclusion he could have drawn.

"Miss French," he greeted civilly. Rosie's mind went blank.

"Mr. Gold," she greeted back. He slid the book closer, and this time Rosie noticed a sheet of paper underneath it. She pulled it out and looked at it, eyebrows contracting. "What's this?"

"A petition," Mr. Gold replied. Rosie only cocked her head. He tapped the book on the cover. "This novel," he said, "is not appropriate for a public library."

Rosie was only more confused. "It's taught in schools –" she started.

"Not here," Mr. Gold cut in with a savage grin. "Not anymore."

Rosie looked back at the petition.

_For the removal of The Things They Carried, written by Tim O'Brien, from Storybrooke Library and schools. Effective immediately_.

It was signed by everyone in Storybrooke, it seemed, excepting Rosie.

"_Why_?" she managed in a strangled whisper. Gold smiled at her, cold and superior.

"This book is violent," he explained all too pleasantly. "It's anti-government. And it encourages actions that are, in fact, punishable by death in many countries to this day."

"Name _one_!" Rosie challenged.

"Desertion," Gold said simply. He removed the book from her grasp and held it tauntingly, a smirk gracing his lips. "All copies of this book are to be removed from public shelves by tomorrow, Miss French. You might want to get started."

Enraged, Rosie called the assistant librarian over and set to work, bustling over to the fiction section with red spots in her eyes. She tugged O'Brien's novel off the shelves and carried them back to the counter under her arm. The assistant was checking out another book for Mr. Gold; Rosie didn't get a decent enough look at it to see its title before Gold tipped her a grin and left.

"I'll kill that man," she muttered. Wide-eyed, the assistant librarian just scampered away.

Rosie couldn't believe how much she'd wanted to date this man before. He was, without a doubt, a beast.


	3. Chapter 3

Fourteen books in total had been banned, all of them favorites of Rosie French's. _The Things They Carried_, _The Handmaid's Tale_, and _The Catcher in the Rye_, admittedly, all fit with Gold's complaints to some degree. That didn't make them any less ridiculous, in Rosie's eyes.

But Ruby, it seemed, couldn't care less.

"He hasn't banned _Fifty Shades of Grey_ yet, has he?" Ruby asked. Rosie frowned.

"No …"

"Then, sorry," Ruby shrugged. She waved away Rosie's counter-petition. "If he's not touching my faves, I got nothing to complain about."

"But, Ruby -!"

"I can't," Ruby said. Rosie was steaming.

"Why not?"

Ruby's eyes flickered around the relatively empty diner, then back at Rosie's woefully empty petition. "I'm not at liberty to say," she said. Exasperated, Rosie threw her hands up in the air.

"He's gotten to you!"

"Whaaat …?" said Ruby unconvincingly. Rosie stared down at her petition forlornly.

"Did you sign his petitions?" she asked. Ruby looked at the floor. "Oh, Ruby –"

"Hey!" Ruby protested. "I had no choice! If I have a choice between being a backstabber and being homeless –"

Rosie shook her head and walked away.

* * *

Her best friend was with the enemy.

Mary Margaret – a close second – regretfully declined.

Even her own father refused to sign her petition! Rosie was running out of options for people to ask, especially since the rest of the town had no ties to her and would choose the pawnbroker in a second. Not out of love or anything, mind. But no one could deny that Mr. Gold was scary –

Abruptly, Rosie came to a halt. The people walking behind her muttered under their breath and went around, but Rosie didn't notice. She was thunderstruck by an idea.

She set off for Mr. Gold's pawnshop.

* * *

Briiiing.

"Mr. Gold!"

There was a short silence. Rosie looked around the empty pawnshop, eyes burning and chest heaving. She heard the sound of a chair scraping across the floor, and then the curtain that led to the back of the shop was swept away.

"Miss French," Gold greeted. "I hope you're not here to collect a book fee."

Rosie smiled dangerously and watched as Gold's mocking expression was replaced by something more serious.

"How can I help you?" he asked, all business. Rosie approached the counter and splayed her fingers on it, grinning a shark's grin.

"You can repeal those book bannings," she said, "Catherine Gold."

Gold froze. Rosie grinned. The pawnbroker's eyes flicked over to the Open sign on the door.

"It's a family name," he hissed.

"It's a _girl's_ name," Rosie corrected, "and I'm willing to bet it's something you don't want the town to know."

"They already know," Gold scoffed.

"Do they?"

He smiled thinly. "Well, I've got a driver's license, don't I?"

"And it says 'Catherine' on it?" Rosie challenged. Gold didn't answer. Rosie looked like the cat who swallowed the canary.

"What do you think you're going to do?" asked Gold. "It's a little juvenile to take the mickey out of someone for their _name_. You can't possibly think you'll win people over with this, and you know I'm not going to stop."

"Normally," Rosie argued, "I wouldn't make friends for this. But then again, you're not the most popular man in town … are you, Catherine?"

Gold rolled his eyes.

"Un-ban the books," said Rosie stubbornly.

"No."

Rosie dug her phone out of her purse and thumbed in the first six digits of Ruby's number.

"I've got a direct link to the town's greatest source of gossip," she warned. "If you don't agree, your secret's out."

"It's hardly a secret," said Gold, annoyed. "It's on my library card, for heaven's sake."

Rosie hovered her thumb over the last digit. Gold leaned forward on the counter, the barest hint of a smile on his lips.

"Let's get this straight," he said lowly. Rosie moved her fingers a little farther from the last button. "You humiliate me in front of a group of, oh, three people in the library. As a consequence – or at least, so you believe – I start banning books. So you decide to … humiliate me further? In front of the whole town?"

Rosie blanched. She looked at the phone. She looked back at Gold.

Gold raised an eyebrow.

"Fine," Rosie grumbled, flipping the phone shut. She slid it back into her purse with a scowl. "Can I bargain to get books back, then?"

Gold held his arms out at his side, indicating the room around them. "It is a pawnshop, dear."

Rosie placed a cufflink on the counter.

Gold blinked down at it.

"It's yours," said Rosie hastily, her cheeks burning. "I found it in the library … before."

Gold shook his head.

"Oh, come on!" Rosie pleaded. "That cufflink's solid gold! I had it appraised! Surely it's worth one book –"

"It's not mine," Gold interrupted. Rosie's jaw dropped. "And your appraiser is an idiot. This isn't gold … it's spray paint."

Rosie may have invented the appraiser. She snatched the cufflink back off the counter.

"This isn't over, Catherine," she growled.

Mr. Gold just smiled and waved at her as she stormed out.


	4. Chapter 4

The feud continued until nearly all of Rosie's favorite books were barred from the public. She was fuming. She was indignant. She had no clue what to do.

"I just don't understand it," she complained to Mary Margaret one night. "He seemed nice enough before – um, all this. I actually kind of liked him. And then, out of nowhere, he just explodes! And bans my books!"

Mary Margaret smiled knowingly.

"It's rude," Rosie said. She narrowed her eyes at the teacher then. "And why are you smiling?"

Mary Margaret quickly looked away. "Oh, nothing."

"Mary Margaret…."

Mary Margaret giggled and waved her hand dismissively, but Rosie could not be deterred. She badgered the other woman until, finally, Mary Margaret gave in.

"Well," she started out demurely, "these books are all your favorites, right?"

"Yes," Rosie growled. The thought of it still made her furious. Mary Margaret smiled knowingly.

"And Mr. Gold never banned any books before you – um –"

She danced carefully around the words 'broke the rules and called him out on romance novels.' Rosie moaned and hung her head.

"No," she muttered. Mary Margaret patted her on the arm.

"But he _did_ come to the library?" she checked.

"Yes," Rosie frowned. Mary Margaret was beaming. "_What_?" Rosie snapped. Mary Margaret laughed.

"Rosie, he has a crush on you!"

Rosie gaped, her mouth open in disbelief. Giggling, Mary Margaret made an attempt to hide her amusement.

"No," Rosie said, shaking her head; a smile was forming on her lips anyway. "He can't."

Mary Margaret let out something like a cackle. "He's just like the boys in my class!" she said through her laughter. "The little boy pulls the little girl's hair so she'll pay attention to him – Mr. Gold bans books for the same reason!"

"That's ridiculous," Rosie said.

"It's true! Think about it – how does he know all your favorite books? Why was he so nervous when he first checked one out? Why was he so angry about you making fun of him?"

Rosie only shook her head.

"It's not because he was embarrassed, Rosie," Mary Margaret insisted. "It's because _you _embarrassed him. If it was anyone else, he'd just dock their rent and move on."

"No," Rosie said simply, and Mary Margaret let the conversation die with a roll of her eyes.

But Rosie wondered …

* * *

"Miss French."

Mr. Gold paused, waiting for the librarian's cold greeting in return. Rosie kept reading her book, not looking up.

"_Miss French_," said Mr. Gold again. Rosie finished her chapter, stuck a bookmark in, and finally looked up at him. She didn't say a word. Visibly perturbed (but hiding it as best he could), Gold presented her with a new petition.

"It's a ban," he informed her when she read it through and didn't react.

Rosie gave a disinterested hum. She turned to some old, half-filled-out paperwork.

"A ban on Dr. Seuss," Gold said loudly. His eyes were darting all over her, and he actually looked a little worried. "Miss French, are you feeling well?"

"Hmm?" said Rosie distractedly. She turned to face him, put on an expression of bored surprise (an "oh, are you still here?" look), and turned away again.

"Well," said Mr. Gold, uncertain. Rosie kept her back to him, nose placed firmly back in her book. "I'll just … leave this here for you."

Rosie didn't answer.

"They have to be removed by tomorrow!" Gold warned.

Rosie just kept reading. She heard shifting sounds – uncertain footsteps fading toward the door – and then silence. Her posture relaxed slightly, but her mind was buzzing. If Mary Margaret was right –

"What are you reading?"

Rosie let out a shriek and dropped her book, whirling around. Gold was still in the library – still right in front of the counter, in fact – looking ill.

"Don't do that!" Rosie scolded, bending to retrieve her book. Gold smiled slightly, almost bashfully. "And I'm reading _poetry_, thank you very much."

She turned away from him sharply, opening the book again. The library was silent.

"What kind of poetry?" asked Gold, biting his lip.

Rosie stared at him.

"Robert Frost?" He tilted his head to read the cover, then looked at her. "I like him, too."

And then he was staring at her cautiously, hopefully, waiting for a good reaction – anything but what she'd been doing earlier, pretending he didn't exist. Paying him no attention.

_Good Lord_, Rosie thought, _Mary Margaret was right_.


	5. Chapter 5

Rosie reflected that, in all honesty, it was perhaps a bit cruel to ignore Gold every day … but it was also the only way he played nice. After only a few weeks, petitions ceased to be his main priority. More often than not, he asked about her.

"Are you related to Moe French?" he asked one day, still clearly uncomfortable with not being mean. Rosie looked up at him, eyebrows raised, and he practically squirmed.

"He's my father," she said eventually. Gold flushed and looked away.

"Well, tell him rent is due."

That was the extent of their conversation that day. Still, though, it was nicer than book-bannings, and it amused Rosie to no end. She decided to try and see what flustered him. The next day, when he came in –

"Miss French."

"Mr. Gold." Rosie paused, waited until Gold was about to break the silence. His mouth opened to speak and she spoke over him. "You look very nice today."

Gold's mouth snapped shut. Rosie waited, anticipating whatever he might come up with – no doubt something about his vast fortune, or Rosie's near-minimal wage job.

Gold's jaw apparently could not un-clench enough for words. For a long minute, they just stood there staring at each other. Then Gold nodded and walked away, completely forgetting whatever he'd meant to say.

Rosie wasn't sure if that counted as 'flustered' or not.

* * *

The next time he came to the library (this time with some clearly half-hearted petition in hand), Rosie was wearing one of Ruby's blouses. She put her elbows on the counter and rested her hands on her cheeks, staring up at him, pressing her breasts out with her biceps.

Gold's eyes were very wide and very, very deliberately concentrated on her face.

"So," said Rosie, making Gold's eyes flicker down to her mouth and then even lower before, horrified, he looked away. "I've been thinking about baby names."

Confused, Gold looked as close to her face as he could – this meant he was actually staring at a spot just above her head.

"_Scottish_ baby names," Rosie stressed. "I was thinking, oh … Nachraithean for a boy –"

Gold blanched.

"—and Raoghnailt for a girl. What do you think?"

Gold struggled for words. "They're, ah – well, they're very _Gaelic_ –"

Rosie nodded. Gold floundered.

"Ah, why – why are you looking at baby names, again?"

For a long time, Rosie just beamed at him, not answering. Gold looked like he might be sick. Then –

"I'm organizing a Banned Books Club," Rosie told him on an unrelated note. "It's for all the novels and anthologies that have been banned from the library and schools lately."

Gold had the decency to look mildly abashed.

"Would you like to join?" asked Rosie. She let her hands fall to the counter, no longer pushing her breasts out. Gold hesitated, thinking it over. He looked at Rosie.

He nodded.


	6. Chapter 6

The Banned Books Club met every Saturday at six, when the library closed. Rosie organized snacks on a little cart that she pushed to the edge of the children's section reading circle, with the carpeted steps and the game center in the middle. She gathered a copy of every single book Mr. Gold had had banned; she picked one and spent hours coming up with discussion points for it, worksheets, answers to every possible question.

At fifteen before six, she realized she hadn't invited any guests.

"Shit," she said. She fumbled with her cell phone, thinking fast. Who would come? Ruby would, of course, though she might be a bit too loud and showy to be a convincing book club member. And Mary Margaret, who might be a little scared of Mr. Gold, but who would pull through. Who else?

Hmm.

Shaking her head at her utter lack of friends, Rosie got on the phone and made some calls. Ruby, Mary Margaret. She told them to call anyone they could think of who would come. Sounding uncertain, they both agreed.

At six, Mary Margaret entered the library with two fourth graders, a pre-schooler, and a nun. The pre-schooler scampered off to rip pages from a picture book; Rosie watched her go with a newly pale face. It was only a few minutes later when Ruby also strolled in, bringing with her the town drunk, a ragged-looking man with the hiccups, and a gum-snapping teenage door.

Rosie plastered a big, scared-looking, 'welcoming' grin on her face.

"Great!" she said a bit too shrilly, and possibly with the use of one too many exclamation marks. "Well then! Looks like we're all here! Yeah! Let's get started!"

The gathered members of the Banned Book Club looked at each other, looked at her doubtfully, and settled. Four of them took seats in the carpeted circle. The others congregated 'round the snack cart. Rosie briefly considered calling them over, but decided it wasn't worth it. She kept glancing at the door to see when Mr. Gold would show up, but the front door to the library remained closed.

"Today's book," Rosie said, "is Wiseguy, the biography of Hollywood's most famous gangster."

Leroy made an approving noise around a mouthful of donut. "Al Capone," he said knowingly. "My favorite."

"Well, actually, no. Not Al Capone."

His heavy brows furrowed. "John Dillinger?"

"Actually—"

"Wait," he said, holding up a sticky-looking hand. "Lemme guess."

Rosie waited, her expression painful. Leroy chewed thoughtfully.

"Al Capone," he said.

"Leroy," the nun interjected, "I think she's talking about Henry Hill."

"Never heard of him."

"Well, me neither," said the nun, turning over her copy of Wiseguy. "But then again, it says his name on the cover."

Shrugging, Leroy grabbed another donut. Rosie took a steadying breath and opened her book.

"Right," she said, "well, let's get started. What did you guys think of Wiseguy? Did you like it?"

Ruby eagerly raised her hand.

"Yes? Ruby?"

"Didn't read it," Ruby said. Rosie wilted a little.

"Well, pretend you did," she advised. "Mr. Gold's gonna be here soon, and he doesn't know that we're not a real club."

There were various 'ooh's and significant glances shared between the unenlightened members of the club. Leroy snagged the plate of cookies off the cart, sat down next to Sister Astrid, and shared with her.

"Dinner and a show," he whispered, facing the door. Rosie glared at him.

They droned on for a while about the book – or at least, Rosie did – until all attempts at acting were cast away and the members of the fake book club just started gossiping about their lives. A few wild, stage-whispered theories about why there was a fake book club for Mr. Gold floated around the room. Leroy put his hand on Astrid's thigh and refused to remove it even as she turned bright red. The teenage girl spat her gum out on the carpet and slipped another piece into her mouth. Ruby took off her pumps, hung them on a string, and wore them around her neck.

They were in the middle of telling a story.

"So I'm two weeks late on rent, right?" said Leroy to the circle at large, keeping one hand planted on Astrid's thigh. "And it's not like it's my fault or anything – I'm in the slammer for public intox the day it's due, and Gold never comes to get it from me, so I figure what's the harm? I'll wait it out."

Boredly, Rosie picked at stray strings on the carpet. Leroy leaned forward for dramatic effect.

"So I'm walkin' down Second Street where his shop's at, not really thinkin' about it, and about the time I pull up level with his window I remember I owe him money, and maybe I shouldn't be walkin' around by him in broad daylight. So I sorta fish around in my pockets, seein' if I have any spare change to tide him over, and I've got a twenty and some tens, so I'm like, sure Leroy, go for it.

"So I go in the shop, ring the bell and everything, and he's not even in there, at the counter. He's in the back. And he's not coming out. And I'm like, what's he _doin'_ back there? Y'know? And then I realize there's this awful smell, like the worst thing you ever smelled in your life, coming from the backroom, and I'm like, holy crap, he's taking a dump."

Rosie buried her face in her hands, heat rushing to her cheeks in embarrassment. Around the circle, various lips were curled.

"So I go back there," said Leroy with the suspense of a master storyteller, "cuz it's like a horror movie, you just gotta investigate. And when I get back there, I realize I'm wrong. There's not even a bathroom in the pawnshop anywhere. No, he's not crappin', he's sitting behind his desk, with an _apron_ on—"

"Spoilers," said a bored, crisp, Scottish voice behind them. The circle as a whole jumped and turned to see Mr. Gold there, pristinely dressed as ever, leaning on his cane. "It was lanolin."

The whole circle wilted.

"Damn it," said Leroy in exasperation, "come on, I was at the best part of the story!" He spoke quickly, trying to finish it his own way. "He's got this tub of slimy white stuff—"

Ruby smacked him in the back of the head. "Story's over," she said. "Lame ending. You lose."

Leroy's face sunk into a pout. Carefully, Mr. Gold stepped down onto the cushioned stairs and took a seat, arranging his cane so that it leant against his leg.

"Excuse my lateness," he said smoothly, accepting the book passed to him by Mary Margaret. He offered no explanation for why he was late and refused to meet Rosie's eyes, pretending he didn't see her. "Where were we, then?"

The circle of friends and acquaintances looked around each other, wide-eyed.

"Um," said Rosie, struggling to remember her carefully planned discussion points. "We were ... just ... talking about Henry Hill's, um, relationship with ... the ..."

"Scottish mob," Ruby invented with the air of someone who thinks they're being helpful. Rosie sent her a wide-eyed, pale-faced glare. Mr. Gold just blinked. He looked at Rosie as if seeking an explanation.

Rosie was never good at common sense.

"Ah, yes," she said instead of playing it all off as a joke. "The Scottish mob. Yes, well, one must of course look into, eh, other resources to find references to that ... but good point, Ruby, good point."

"Scottish mob?" said Gold, utterly confused.

"Yes, Mr. Gold, but we've already covered it, moving on—"

"Yes," said Ruby cheerfully. "You know. The Highlanders."

Rosie wanted to bury her face in her hands and moan.

"With their kilts," said Ruby dreamily, "and their little berets with the skulls on them."

Gold kept an admirably blank face, except for the frown.

"Their motto is 'Och, ah jist came frae the fray?'" Ruby said. "Their leader is ... um ... Jock MacJock?"

"Moving on!" said Rosie loudly before Gold, whose eyes had gone cold, could open his mouth and say something scathing. Leroy snickered and tried to elbow Astrid in the gut, missing and hitting her boob instead. Astrid glared at him and scooted away. "Why don't we talk about Henry's relationship with his wife?" Rosie suggested. "Do you think there are any connections between the stress of a Catholic-Jewish marriage and Henry's mob?"

She stared hopelessly at the lost looks on the circle's various faces.

"I didn't know there were Catholic Jews," said the teenage girl. Rosie glanced over and saw Mr. Gold kneading his temples.

"Well," said Rosie gently, "actually—"

"Aren't you one of the other Boyd girls?" Mr. Gold interrupted, staring peevishly at the teenager. She curled her lip at him.

"Yeah."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" asked Gold. "Like the backseat of another teenager's car?"

Huffing, the girl spat out her second piece of gum – Rosie watched mournfully as it fell on the carpet – and stomped out of the library. The door slammed behind her.

"Oh, thank God," said Leroy loudly, slinging his arm around Astrid. "Now I can take my pants off."

Squeaking, Mary Margaret edged away from him and led the fourth-graders and pre-schoolers, forgotten by all, away.

* * *

They all filed out at seven, begging off for various reasons. Mary Margaret had papers to grade, Ruby had to get to work, Astrid had to beg forgiveness at the chapel for accidentally brushing Leroy's nipple through his shirt. Eventually, Rosie stood in a newly-empty library just outside the circle, exhaustedly, stacking the plates on her snack cart. Behind her, she heard Gold standing, making his way out of the circle as well, carefully maneuvering the steeper-than-usual carpeted steps.

"Your book club's a bit of a mess," he told Rosie a little ruefully. Rosie nodded, keeping her eyes on the snack cart. She loaded the leftover cookies into a Tupperware bowl; the donuts went back into the box she'd gotten them in when she bought them from the store. Silently, Gold watched her. He didn't offer any help.

"How long have you been hosting the book club?" he asked politely, making small talk. It was only slightly awkward; admirable really.

"Oh," said Rosie, making stuff up, "I guess since about the third time you banned a book."

Mr. Gold whistled lowly. "So this is week ... nine? Ten?" he asked.

"Ten," Rosie shrugged.

"Only four books left, then."

There was a pause. Rosie turned to look at him, saw him staring at a point in the distance, his eyes elsewhere. She watched him for a while, until he came back down to Earth.

"Well," he said eventually, "I had a lovely time. Thanks for inviting me."

She nodded. He didn't sound convinced.

"Do you think you'll have another meeting?" he asked, almost hopefully. Rosie stared off at the door, where her entire crew of 'book club members' had disappeared as soon as they got the chance.

"No," she said reluctantly. "I don't suppose I will."

"Because I can always ban more books," said Gold quickly. "If you need more material."

She smiled at him. "That won't be necessary."

He nodded, trying to look stern and aloof, looking glum instead.

"Thanks, though," said Rosie, her fingers brushing his. His eyes flickered down to their hands, dark and intense. "It's very sweet of you."

He looked at her, searching her face, and Rosie merely looked back at him. Whatever happened would happen, she supposed. She waited.

Gold sucked in a breath and stepped away.

"Right," he said roughly. "See you on rent day."

And then, stiffly, without a backward look, he made his way to the door.

* * *

**A/N: They're all so delightfully stupid.**


End file.
